Chapter Text
DATA SO FAR.
INCONCLUSIVE.
WERE GOING IN CIRCLES.
I ASSURE YOU.
THAT HAS BEEN A RESULT
OF THE CANARY.
NOT THE PROJECT
THE ALCOHOLIC?
DR DEE?
UNCOOPERATIVE?
HE IS STUBBORN
LIKELY UNHAPPY WITH
THE SITUATION WE PUT HIM IN
THE WORK SENT HAS BEEN
THE BARE MINIMUM
SERVERS HAVE BEEN NEGLECTED.
KERFU HAS BEEN DEACTIVATED YET
STILL TRYING TO
COMMUNICATE WITH US
GIVING DAILY FOOD FOR FREE
REMOVED THE INCENTIVE
TO PURSUE RESEARCH
I REFUSE TO SQUABBLE
ABOUT THIS AGAIN
LETTING THEM STARVE
WON’T IMPROVE ANYTHING
BESIDES.
THERE HAS BEEN 0 ACTIVITY
FROM DEE FOR OVER A WEEK
TIME FOR A NEW CANARY THEN
SOMEONE MORE MOTIVATED
SEND DRONE TO FIND CORPSE?
WE TRIED THE DRONE.
NO BODY.
PLACE WAS A FUCKING
MESS THOUGH
HARD TO FIND AN ASTRONOMER
WHO NO ONE WILL MISS
EITHER
I UNDERSTAND.
LOOKING AT LIST.
MEYERS?
TOP OF CLASS GRADUATE
UNTRAINED
BUT ALONE.
NO ONE TO ASK QUESTIONS
JUST LIKE YOU WANTED.
HA HA
NON-APPLICANT?
HIS FILE IS ALMOST NON-EXISTENT.
SURELY THERE ARE OTHERS
MORE ADEQUATE...
LIST IS NOT LONG.
BESIDES
HE WAS RECOMMENDED.
CODENAME COULD BE DR MYR
WHO RECOMMENDED HIM?
SECRET.
:)
SEND JOB OFFER?
HM
HE WONT LAST LONG…
HE WILL EXPIRE WITHIN A FEW
WEEKS I ESTIMATE
LONG ENOUGH FOR HIM TO BE IDENTIFIED BY THEM
ENOUGH TO ENTICE THEM TO SHOW THEMSELVES AGAIN.
STILL.
I AM UNSURE ABOUT MEYERS
WHY
NOT?
SURELY THERE ARE OTHERS
MORE ADEQUATE
NO?
SO PICKY.
LOOKING.
KELLIN?
YOUNG.
FRESH FROM UNIVERSITY.
CODENAME COULD BE DR KEL
LIKE KELJOY
THE LITTLE CREATURE
HA HA :)
EM YES.
I’M AWARE OF HIM
QUIET, SMART BUT NIAVE
KINDA ODD
FRIENDS WITH DR ENA THOUGH
COULD BECOME A PROBLEM LATER
DOUBT SHE’D LET
THIS HAPPEN TO HIM
ANY DISSENT FROM HER
SHE CAN JOIN HIM
:)
TRUE.
SHE DOES KNOW THE
ROUTINE AROUND HERE
MORE THAN THE USUAL ANYWAY
HM
MEYERS COULD WORK
FOR NOW
KEEP KELLIN AS BACKUP.
YES.
IF NEEDED
WE SEND DR KEL
AFTER DR MYR
SIMPLE.
:)
>NO OBITUARY NEEDED<
DISCONNECTED...
Jackson looked beyond the endless blue horizon that stretched past his canopy. He was back in the skies, and for a brief moment, he felt like he could almost forget.
But he knew better. The past would always be there, no matter how far he flew.
He knew enough about grief to know that the whole ‘five stages of grief’ thing was bullshit. Grief just wasn’t the same for everyone. Some accepted it quickly and moved on while others stayed in the past. Some would start at denial and just never make it out. It was just easier to pretend that nothing had happened, so they’d ignore their feelings and go on with their life as that grief gets buried deep down, stuffed into a nice little gift-wrapped box and ignored.
And it'd stay that way too, until someday, it all comes back with a bang.
A sharp, metallic pop echoed through the air, causing Jackson to flinch, his thoughts forgotten as his eyes snapped to the instrument panel, pausing on them before scanning the skies around him.
There was nothing. Absolutely nothing except him and the clouds.
He banked into a tight turn as his eyes swept over his surroundings and through the skies. The feeling of unease remained as a deep, metallic groan sounded from behind him, sending a chill down his spine as he twisted around in his seat.
Far behind, silhouetted against the bright clouds, sat a dark, disk-shaped craft, hanging perfectly motionless, as if it had been there the entire time. The soft yellow glow underneath was barely visible from this distance, but he knew it all too well.
It was them.
He remembered them, of course, how could he forget. The Grays… or whatever they were called. They were aliens as far as he knew, but truthfully, he couldn't care less.
He just wanted them dead.
Jackson shoved the throttle forwards, rolling over into a harsh turn as he pitched himself downwards, away from the stars. The craft quickly darted off into the nearby clouds, and he didn't think twice, twisting after them into the towering bank of clouds they escaped to.
The skies vanished as he plunged inside, streaking deeper into the worsening storm as he chased after their glow. It started to dim, fading more and more, flickering briefly before it disappeared completely. Narrowing his eyes, he swept his gaze through the darkness, seeing nothing but the shadows of the storm and the torrential wash of rain over his canopy, until a sudden flash of lightning caused him to flinch.
For a fraction of a second, the blinding white glare lit up a massive, dark silhouette that had been hiding nearby, behind the clouds, as the deafening thunderclap reached his ears, rattling the aircraft as he froze in his seat.
The storm had parted just enough to reveal the enormous dome-shaped craft that hid amongst the gloom, still battered and broken from when he had destroyed it.
It was their mothership.
Jackson grit his teeth, yanking over on the flight stick to maneuver and engage, but his aircraft refused to respond. A sharp panic clawed up his throat as he looked down, only to see the displays in front of him suddenly flicker out and die, plunging him into darkness.
At the same time, the engine hum cut out. The roar of the storm outside vanished. He couldn’t even hear the sound of his own breathing. But in this absolute silence, a new noise took over.
A deep, rhythmic thrum. Almost like the beating of a heart, but so deep that he felt it more than he could hear it.
Jackson glared up at the mothership with pure hatred and slammed his fist against the canopy.
But his hand met nothing, and before he could process it, he fell.
Jackson gasped, now tumbling down freely into the storm, flailing wildly as he reached for something that no longer existed. He dropped through the darkness until something unseen jerked him to a violent halt, ripping the breath out of him as he hung suspended in the middle of the storm.
Quickly catching his breath, he twisted back to the mothership with fury, only to watch in muted terror as it began to change.
Its metallic hull started to ripple and liquify like oil, twisting into impossible geometries that made his eyes ache. Bloody spires and jagged tendrils erupted from its surface, snapping out forcefully into the clouds, latching onto something in the darkness, and throbbing in sync with the sickening pulse.
A wet, jagged mouth split open across its surface, leaking a dark, tar-like substance, as the metal exterior turned to flesh, and countless unseeing eyes opened across its surface, weeping torrents of crimson blood into the skies.
Jackson’s heart sank to his feet as the endless sea of eyes all suddenly rolled to look upon him.
And then it grinned.
A searing hot pain flared inside his skull as he cried out, flailing in fear as wet tendrils of flesh shot out from the monstrosity and wrapped around his torso.
They squeezed, painfully crushing the air from his lungs as he was violently yanked toward the gaping mouth full of teeth.
He was going to die.
With one last fearful look, he squeezed his eyes shut, barely getting out a pitiful cry for help as he was pulled under.
…
It was cold.
…
So cold.
The sudden drop in temperature sent a paralyzing shock through his body as the deafening pulse accelerated to a frantic tempo. Saltwater stung his eyes as the suffocating stench of oil flooded his nose.
He thrashed violently as he sank down into the frigid sea, kicking his legs and clawing frantically at whatever was stuck on him, dragging him down deeper into the depths. His chest burned with agony as his lungs screamed for air.
He didn’t want to die, not like this.
The darkness tightened around his vision as he fought back with every ounce of strength he had. It felt like eternity as he held his breath, trying to reach for the surface, yet it continued to drift further away, further out of his reach.
The pulse pounded in his skull, yet he held on, trying to free himself and escape, until he couldn’t hold on any longer. With a final, desperate, convulsing spasm, his mouth flew open to breathe—
Jackson bolted upright, gasping for air, only to immediately slam his head into the heavy shelf mounted directly above his bed.
“AGH, FUCK!” he spat, collapsing back down onto the mattress before quickly pushing himself back up. He tried to catch his breath as he glanced around, wincing as he rubbed the spot on his head, and upon finding himself inside his small empty room, he blinked.
It was just a dream. A horrifically fucked up and vivid nightmare of a dream, but a dream nonetheless.
After a few moments, Jackson let out a pained groan as the last of the adrenaline left his body. Shakily pushing himself up off the bed, he rubbed the rest of the sleep out of his eyes as he got to his feet and stumbled over to the bathroom, letting his gaze drift around the room, entirely unsurprised by the dirty walls and surroundings that met him as he made his way around.
Walking through the doorway and up to the mirror above the sink, he parted his overgrown hair with his hand and peeked at the quickly forming bruise on his head, grimacing as he touched it. It was going to leave one hell of a mark but at least he wasn’t bleeding.
After a few moments, Jackson placed his hands on the rim of the sink and sank his weight down onto it, staring at the drain before glancing back up at the mirror.
He looked like shit… Has he always looked this bad?
Turning his attention back to the faucet, he turned on the water and cupped his hands under the flow, splashing his face clean a few times before setting back down, letting the water flow as he cast a quick glance back at himself.
Yep, he still looked like shit. Nothing had changed.
Letting out a heavy sigh, he watched the water as it swirled down the drain. When did everything become such a mess? Was it when he first woke up, or further back…
Back when he first woke up, he truly didn't know what the hell was going on. All he knew at that moment was that he was suddenly in a hospital with no memory of how he got there.
Putting it simply, he was beyond confused, and him being swarmed by medical personnel did not help in the slightest. They wouldn’t even answer his questions of what was going on or how he got there, and after a while of the doctors poking and prodding at him, his superior showed up with a few government guys in suits. They kicked everyone out of the room to talk to him in private and once the door clicked shut, they asked him what happened but…
He didn’t know.
He had absolutely nothing for them. He couldn’t remember anything of what they wanted, it was just totally blank. All he could remember were fragments of the few weeks leading up to him suddenly being in the hospital, but anything of the actual event they wanted to hear about was gone.
They didn’t believe him at first, and after talking to some of the doctors out of earshot, they left the room to talk and he just sat there as he waited. When they finally walked back in, one of them walked over to him and said that he likely had amnesia from a major accident that he had caused. He didn’t even process the words at first. He just blinked at them. So the guy said it again, slower, like he was some kind of defect.
A mid-air collision.
He’d collided with his wingman during a training exercise and he was the only one who made it out. The only one to survive…
If that was it, then maybe he could have dealt with the loss of his closest friend. But they just kept talking and talking, adding more and more to the pile as they spoke. They cited some investigation, foul play, criminal negligence, him being discharged and stripped of his rank. They threw around a lot of words he didn’t bother to listen to but the message was clear. He would never fly again.
Not as if that mattered compared to everything else.
Every time one of the government agents opened their mouth after that, it just seemed like it was to give him more bad news. He sat there in complete and total shock before they finally finished, giving him their half-assed condolences for his family, and he didn't even cry. Not a single fucking tear. He was just so overwhelmed that he couldn’t.
And after shattering his life into countless little pieces, they told him he was on an indefinite medical hold until further notice, so he wasn't allowed to have visitors since they had already turned some people away. They didn’t bother saying who it was that came by, but Jackson knew the list of people who actually gave a shit about him was already pretty short, so it wasn’t hard to guess who, since they had made the list that much shorter.
Then they just left. No goodbyes or anything. No handshake, no thank you for your service, just… nothing. They just walked out and left him alone, in a silent room, as his entire world crumbled around him. So he just sat there, trying to come to grips with his new reality as he stared off into space, alone in the deafening silence of his own mind. Unable to move past the fact that everything was gone…
He sat alone in that bed for three days, ignoring everything as he stared at nothing. Day turned to night, and then back to day, and in the middle of the third night, something finally gave in and broke.
Without a sound, he pulled himself off the bed and carefully shuffled out into the hallway, slipping past the night staff and nurses as he headed for the exit. He just couldn't do it anymore, so he left. He walked right out the front door in just a hospital gown and quietly disappeared, barely three days after waking up from a three-month long coma. He didn’t say goodbye to anyone, but there wasn’t anyone waiting to hear it anyways. At least not from him.
Jackson pulled his eyes from the sink as he shut off the water, before stumbling back to his bed, carelessly dropping his weight onto the mattress as the springs groaned beneath him. He had to fumble around for a second before his fingers finally caught the small metallic aircraft hung around his neck. He held it in his grasp, rubbing it with his thumb as he thought back.
That had happened less than a month ago. Although his memory was still fragmented and cloudy, some bit of it had come back to him from during the ‘accident’. Some of it was barely cohesive but it was enough to know one thing.
They had lied to him…
If someone had come up to him and told him what he could now remember, he would have thought it was some elaborate joke or prank, but now, he remembered enough to know they existed. While he couldn’t remember everything exactly how it happened, he was smart enough to piece things together. His wingman and best friend was dead, not because of a crash, but because he failed to save him.
Jackson rubbed his eyes as he pushed away the thought. Rolling over on the bed, he stared at the wall next to him as he breathed out.
He figured someone would have tracked him down by now, but nobody had. It didn’t even hurt as bad as he thought it would. It just proved that nobody cared enough to look.
He was a little surprised that the government hadn't dragged him back yet or made him disappear. They probably knew exactly where he was, it was the government after all. Maybe they thought that he just wasn’t worth the effort, which was correct in his opinion. He wasn't worth anything. Hell, they probably watched him walk out of the hospital and figured it saved them the trouble of having to make him disappear for good. However, it was too bad for them since he had always been a bit stubborn.
Sure, maybe the last couple of weeks had been rough, but he was doing fine. He might’ve had to do some not so legal stuff to get enough cash to afford this crappy little room, but whoever he stole from would just have to deal with it. It was temporary, like everything else, but it beat sleeping on a park bench like he had done the first two nights.
When he’d left the hospital with nothing on but a gown, he had to get a bit creative. He still felt kinda bad for the guy who would have found a hospital gown instead of his clothes. It was just a black t-shirt with some white text on it that he hadn’t bothered to read, regular blue jeans with a belt, and a pair of boots, but they actually fit pretty well all things considered.
Jackson slowly lifted his hand up in front of his face as he looked at his hand. The three months in a coma had nearly crippled him. Even after two weeks of being awake, his fingers were still clumsy and his brain felt sluggish when he tried to think too hard, but besides the trouble with motor control and the cognitive impairment here and there, he was managing… kinda.
He clenched his hand into a fist, barely able to squeeze with any force. He really did have nothing left. He probably should have felt upset or sad about it, but truthfully, he didn't. He only felt numb. Maybe if he had actually tried to save his best friend, things could have ended differently. Maybe if he wasn’t so useless and pathetic, he could have—
A couple of knocks pulled Jackson from his thoughts as he glanced over towards the front door. He paused for a moment, before rolling off the bed with a sigh as he made his way towards the door. Cautiously peering through the peephole, there wasn’t anything but an empty hallway. He waited a few short moments before unlocking the door and peeking outside.
It was completely deserted. He glanced around, and after lingering just a bit too long to confirm that there wasn't anyone outside, he stepped back to close the door, only to finally notice the envelope laying on the floor. He stared at it for a few moments before picking it up, flipping it over as he read the stamped letters.
“Alpen Signal Observatorium?” he muttered, looking over the envelope before casting one last glance around. Stepping back inside, he locked the door behind him and opened the letter, quietly reading aloud to himself.
“…We at Alpen Signal Observatorium, ASO, extend our hand to you, Dr. Myr, with an offer to help move humanity forward. With our non-profit organization based in Switzerland, our team has been scanning the stars for years in a quest to learn more about the cosmos and from where we come...” He started to pace around the room, skimming over the rest of the letter until a word caught his attention.
“...Alone?” He paused in his walk as he started to mumble, “…Lodging and accommodation is provided. If you are interested, please contact us using the attached number below. We will send an associate to speak with you should you reach out. We look forward to hearing back from you…” Jackson knitted his eyebrows in confusion as he flipped the paper over.
“…What?” He muttered as he looked around, “Who wrote this shit?”
Quickly skimming over the letter again, the thought of it being some kind of scam formed in his mind, but he quickly brushed it aside. While it could have been some kind of scam or malicious scheme, he doubted it. The letter seemed official enough, even if it was just sitting in front of his door.
He glanced over at the door before setting the letter down on the counter. It just felt weird. Why him? Surely there were others that were more capable than he would be. Besides completing his doctorate, which was years ago, the closest thing he had to actual hands-on experience with astronomy was using one of those expensive at-home telescopes, not to mention that particular experience didn't end too well considering he knocked it over and shattered the lens…
Jackson plopped down on the bed with a huff, glancing up at the counter. He didn’t know if it was his own mind confusing him or if it was the wording in the letter. Hell, he didn't even know how they found him. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a letter from the Government, since it would make sense for them to keep track of him, especially considering what he could remember, but this wasn’t them. This was some non-profit organization in Switzerland of all places. All the way on the opposite side of the world, giving him a job offer for something he knew next to nothing about.
Mulling over the offer in his mind, it did seem more interesting than sitting in this room for the rest of his life. He doubted he’d make it to the end of the month when rent was due since he hadn’t eaten much since he first woke up two weeks ago, he only stole enough to afford the room after all.
If he did accept, he would be assigned to a radio telescope site somewhere in the Swiss Alps. The letter didn’t really specify where, but it shouldn’t matter too much. They did mention that the site was very isolated, far from any civilization in order to prevent cross-contamination with signals that weren’t from space. And apparently, they'd cover all the costs of his travel expenses, along with providing lodging and food for the time he worked at the site.
Truthfully, it didn't seem half bad. It did briefly mention that he would be completely by himself for the entirety of his employment, but he was fine with it, so all in all, there didn't seem to be any issues with their offer, except for one tiny little itty-bitty minor detail. He would be scanning for signals.
From space.
Sure, to anyone else that would've been fine, but considering what he could piece together from his fractured memory, it was… a lot. However, the more he thought it over, the more he came to the realization that this was it for him. He had nothing left and nowhere to go, so what else would he do? Stay in this room and starve to death? He’d rather not have a slow drawn out death, so yeah, even though he absolutely despised the Grays, and alien life in general, what were the chances that he’d find them again. It had to be pretty low, right? There were probably thousands of observatories in America alone, let alone the rest of the world, yet he’s never heard of anyone finding even a trace of them. Surely someone would have come forth and revealed the truth if they had…
Jackson ignored the nagging feeling in his mind as he shrugged, pushing himself over to the letter again. He quickly read through it one last time before reaching for the nearby landline. Just a small relay site in the middle of nowhere, all by himself with no supervision. There’d be no reason he’d have to even think of aliens, since the most he’d see of them would be from signals if he’s unlucky.
If he does find them, he’d manage, it’s not as if the signals would try to kill him like they did.
Truthfully, Jackson didn’t really know what he was expecting when he called them, but it definitely wasn't for someone to just suddenly show up at his door while his call was still connecting. Apparently, they had already done everything for him. From onboarding paperwork to pre-emptively booking an express flight that departed less than an hour after he called. There was never an interview or screening. Instead, they just showed up and told him that it was time for him to go. He was still trying to process it, even now, as he looked through his pockets.
“...Where is it?” Jackson mumbled around an unlit cigarette as he fished around for his lighter. After a short moment, he finally pulled it from his pocket, even though he was pretty certain that he had already checked said pocket twice.
Jackson slumped down onto the curb of the road, coughing out a lungful of smoke as he stared up at the crystal blue sky. He loathed the fact that he had started smoking. It was such a dumb reason too. There was just a full pack of cigarettes tucked away in the jeans he had taken, along with a really nice metal Zippo lighter, and since he had nothing better to do, he just started smoking. He knew it was stupid, but he did it anyway. Maybe it was karma for the stealing.
He didn’t know what to think anymore. Here he was, in a foreign country with literally nothing except what was on him, left on the side of the road in front of what he presumed was the ASO Headquarters.
Casting a quick glance over his shoulder at the large building behind him, he hoped it was something like that because it sure didn't look like any radio telescope site to him. Thankfully, the large concrete form that sat nearby had the company logo of ASO displayed on it, so at least he was somewhat in the right place since, besides the country, he had no idea where he was. It didn't help that he only spoke English either, considering most of the signs he had seen on the way here were definitely not English, though a few were in German. Sure, he did know a little German, but not enough to use it fluently.
They didn't even give him that much time to prepare, considering the flight he got on took off less than an hour after he got the letter. He did manage to take a quick shower before he left though, so that was an improvement, even if it did make him feel somewhat uncomfortable. He didn’t even know why it did. Maybe it was more psychological instability crap from the coma, but he didn’t know or care anymore. It was just more shit for him to deal with.
Besides, a shower was about all he could manage with the small amount of time he was given, considering that he had to squeeze his clothes dry after accidentally knocking them into the toilet. How he could be such a clumsy dumbass and still function as a living being was something that deserved to be studied. Preferably in a lab, locked far away from the rest of functioning society.
How he always seemed to get himself involved in the strangest shit was completely beyond him. Hell, he wasn't even sure what he was supposed to do now. The guy back in America hadn't explained shit. The guy who dropped him off here hadn’t explained shit. Nobody had explained shit. And now here he was, sitting on a curb with absolutely no clue about the shit he’d need to do or where he needed to go.
With a huff, Jackson smothered out the rest of the cigarette before pushing himself up off the curb, pausing on the sidewalk as he got another look at the building.
Seeing the actual company and stuff in person did allow for him to finally realize that this offer of theirs was quite real. For a while, he was pretty sure he was about to be killed or have his organs stolen, but that didn’t happen. Well, he still wasn’t a hundred percent sure it was completely off the table just yet, but he seriously doubted it at this point.
He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t at least a little bit excited. Not that he was interested in working with sensitive astronomy equipment, but more of the fact that he always had enjoyed looking at the stars, even though he hadn't done much of that after everything that had happened. It might have helped that the pay was good, but even then, it wasn't like he had anything waiting for him back in Anchorage, let alone anywhere else.
The fact that he would be working with radio telescopes to try and find alien life was a little too ironic, since he absolutely despised them. Just the thought of them pissed him off. He missed his old life, back before everything went to shit. Back before he knew about extraterrestrial life waging a secret war between themselves on Earth, before he had to watch as his best friend was shot down, and all he did was watch as they murdered him. If only he had done something, anything, differently back then, then maybe everything wouldn’t be so utterly fucked.
Jackson brought his hand up to his necklace he still had hung around his neck. He never had taken it off since he first put it on. It fell with him that day and it felt as much a part of him as any other part of his body. To him, it was more important than his own life.
He grit his teeth, running his thumb over the surface as the anger bubbled up deep within. He hated them so much. With every single fiber of his being, he completely despised them. Even if every single molecule of his body had the word hate carved into it, it would not even begin to compare to the amount he felt towards them. He knew there was another group as well, but he just couldn’t remember anything else about them. He was certain he had saved one of them too but the memories were just too hazy to know for sure. If he had saved one of them, then why hadn’t they saved him?
He hated the missing memories. He hated not being able to remember the events that completely destroyed his life. He hated the issues that came from the coma, the cognitive issues he now had, the fucked up motor control, everything. He hated everything, even himself. And most of all, he hated them.
Fuck aliens. He hoped they all fucking died.
“Yo, you good?”
“Fucking hell!" Jackson jerked away, causing the guy who was now next to him to flinch. "What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine, sorry.” He caught his breath, rubbing his head as he tried to clear his mind. That scared the shit out of him so bad.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. You sure you're okay?”
“Yeah, I'm fine.” Jackson quickly waved his hand with a dismissive gesture as he briefly glanced at the man. He was an older black male, about mid-forties if Jackson had to guess, and had brown eyes and short curly black hair. Jackson also noticed the ASO badge clipped onto his shirt as he continued, “Uhh, Sorry. I’ve just had a very… overwhelming day, I guess.”
The man straightened slightly, a more friendly attitude taking the place of the weary one from before.
“Ah, it’s fine. We all have bad days now and then.” The man smiled as he reached out a hand, “Name’s Ken. What’s yours?”
Jackson raised his own, weakly grabbing Ken’s hand and returning the gesture.
“Jackson.”
“Jackson?" Ken paused for a moment, his face lighting up with a hint of recognition as he continued. "Dr. Myr?”
Jackson just nodded his head in confirmation.
“Oh, cool! You're the new site technician for Dunkeltaler.” Ken let out a short chuckle before continuing, “I didn’t think I’d get to meet you before you left for the site, let alone be the first one at ASO to officially greet you. Neat.”
Jackson let out a quiet huff. At least they were expecting him. He rubbed his nose as he spoke, “Okay, so this might sound weird but do you have any idea where I'm supposed to go? I haven’t really been told anything.”
“Nobody told you anything?” Ken asked through a look of confusion as Jackson nodded.
“Besides a letter I got less than twelve hours ago, you’re the first person I've actually managed to have a conversation with.”
“Oh, okay, I… I don't normally see the operators before they leave for the field, so I don't know if that's normal. They're normally pretty good at keeping things smooth around here…” Ken paused as he ran a hand through his hair, “Hmm, well, you should be on Dr. Ena’s team though, so I can at least put you in the right direction, just follow me.”
Jackson simply nodded, falling into step behind Ken as the older man turned and led the way into the building.
“So, Dr. Myr,” Ken started, his hands swinging casually as they walked past a row of unoccupied security turnstiles and down a hallway. “I’ve heard it's a bit of a trek when you get out to Dunkeltaler. It’s pretty isolated, too…”
Jackson let out a hum of acknowledgement as Ken continued. “Anyways, what did you do before you came here?”
“Military,” Jackson mumbled, keeping his hands in his pockets as he glanced around. “Used to be a pilot.”
Ken’s eyebrows shot up, turning his head to look at Jackson with a newfound sense of respect. “A pilot? Like a fighter pilot?”
Jackson nodded.
“Damn, that’s pretty cool. What were you flying? I wanted to get into aviation when I was younger, but life had other plans.”
“F-22s,” Jackson muttered, the word coming out flat.
“Oh wow, it must have been hard to walk away from that,” Ken said, glancing back at him. “What made you call it quits?”
Jackson stared at the floor as they walked, his voice dropping to a barely audible whisper, “I didn’t quit…”
Ken blinked, his brow furrowing as he slowed his pace slightly. “What did you say?”
“...I don’t like to talk about it.” Jackson grumbled, glancing off to the side and ignoring the question.
Ken caught onto the heavy shift in atmosphere and quickly cleared his throat, adjusting his badge. “Sorry, I… I didn't mean to pry.”
They walked in silence for a few moments until Ken stopped in front of an unmarked wooden door. He gave a quick, polite knock before opening it just enough to peek his head inside.
“Dr. Ena? Sorry to bother you, but the new site technician for Dunkeltaler just arrived outside.”
A sharp feminine voice cut through the quiet hall from inside. “I’ll get him in a moment.”
Ken turned back to Jackson, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder. “Alright pal, this is where I leave you. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Jackson muttered, watching him give a brief thumbs up before heading back down the hall.
Jackson waited in the hall for a moment before the door opened and a woman with dark black hair and black makeup stepped out, her eyes scanning him from head to toe. Her gaze lingered just long enough for him to feel a flicker of discomfort as a look of distaste crossed her features, but she quickly masked it with indifference and let out a quiet sigh.
“Dr. Myr,” she said, her voice entirely devoid of warmth. “To be completely frank, I do not understand why they dropped you on me with less than a day of notice. I was quite sure we were receiving someone else, not you...” She trailed off, her eyes flicking across his shirt before she visibly brushed the thought aside. “Regardless. They made their decision, and we are on a strict timeline. Follow me.”
She brushed past him without waiting, forcing Jackson to turn on his heel and hustle to keep up with her brisk pace. She led him deeper into the facility, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she spoke.
“You will be stationed at Dunkeltaler but you should already know that. It is a highly sophisticated, fully integrated radio telescope array,” Dr. Ena explained, her tone shifting into a practiced, mechanical recitation. “Your daily duties will include the routine signal collection and processing, along with collecting daily hash-codes from a few of the twenty-four satellites, and regular system maintenance.”
Jackson listened as he followed her down another hallway as she continued.
“Furthermore, the main server room requires constant oversight. As I said, there are twenty-four satellites within the array. You will need to manually fix any corrupted server drives as they fail, clear out system errors, and perform physical checks on them, along with the outer radio towers and transformers scattered throughout the surrounding mountains. Especially during heavy storms, as the localized feedback loops tend to trip the breakers.”
Jackson blinked, staring at the back of her head. That seemed like a lot for just one person. How exactly was he supposed to balance data processing with everything else?
She abruptly stopped in front of a door, pushing it open to reveal a small room. It contained nothing but a square table, two chairs, and a water dispenser.
“I must warn you, the facility has also been neglected for some time. The previous operator did not leave the base in an ideal state.” She said, gesturing for him to take a seat as she motioned him past. “Wait here, I need to retrieve some paperwork. I will be back in a moment.”
Before Jackson could even blink, she turned and walked away, the door clicking shut behind her. He stood alone in the center of the small room, slowly processing what he heard before he huffed. Surely it wasn't as bad as it sounded. If it was that bad, then they would be sending more than just one person if they actually wanted to get data back.
He glanced around the room, looking between the metal chairs, table, and water dispenser sitting at the back of the room. It almost felt like he was standing in an interrogation room. Between the metal furniture and lack of decorations, he half expected to have a cop walk in, not to mention how uncomfortably dry it was in here.
Jackson walked over to the table and sat down with a tired sigh. He’d just have to wait, like she said.
...
Jackson tipped his head back, staring blankly at the ceiling. It couldn't have been more than half an hour, yet he was already sick and tired of waiting. Itching the back of his neck, he let his hand drop to the table, his fingers striking a restless rhythm against its surface.
He was so bored.
How could he not be? There was nothing in the room. Absolutely nothing. It felt like some weird ass torture method. Some sort of inhumane sensory deprivation for him to have nothing to do as the time slowly ticked by. They didn't even have a clock in here. Why have no clock, or anything really?
With an overdramatic sigh, he leaned back, balancing the chair on its two rear legs as he rocked back and forth. At this point, he didn’t care if it was actually as bad as it sounded, he just wanted to get out of this stuffy ass room.
The sudden sound of footsteps outside made him perk up. Snapping the chair's front legs down to the floor, he tracked the door with a newfound sense of hope as an unfamiliar face poked inside.
“Dr. Myr, Dr. Ena will be with you soon. Thank you for waiting.”
Before Jackson could utter a word, the person ducked right back out, clicking the door shut.
His expression fell. Letting out an annoyed groan, he rolled his eyes and kicked his chair back onto two legs, returning his glare to the ceiling. If that was on purpose, that was really, really cruel.
He paused, letting the chair drop back onto all four legs with a loud thud as his gaze drifted downwards. Looking down at himself, his eyes finally tracked the white lettering stretched across the front of the t-shirt he’d ‘found’ after leaving the hospital. He had barely checked the size when he grabbed it, let alone what was actually printed on it.
There was a simple white graphic of a ball resting at the very bottom of a steep, downward curve, but the bold white text above was what caught his attention. It was just three simple words.
I HAD POTENTIAL.
He stared at it for a long, quiet moment. “There’s no way I’ve been wearing this for almost two weeks and only now do I read the fucking shirt,” he muttered to the empty room, rubbing his palms over his face before shaking his head.
Standing up with a frustrated sigh, he looked over at the water dispenser sitting at the back of the room and shrugged. If they didn't want him drinking, they shouldn’t have stuck him in a room and left him with it.
It was just a standard cooler with a large plastic water jug inverted over the top with a stack of paper cups hung off the side. Crinkling a cup free, he filled it to the brim and brought it to his lips, throwing it back in a few heavy gulps. He refilled it a few more times and once he finished, he looked around for a place to throw the cup away.
“...Really? Why no trash can either?” He huffed, crumpling the paper cup into a tight ball and shoved it into his back pocket. Taking a closer look at the cooler, he noticed the corporate logo on the side and let out an incredulous laugh.
“What the hell…”
He crouched down, tilting the dispenser over slightly as he tried to get a better look at the logo. It looked nearly identical to the IKEA logo, but the blocky letters spelled out MEOW instead.
Click.
“Shit!”
The jug lurched, unseating itself as it toppled off the dispenser. Jackson’s hands shot out to catch it, but he was half a second too slow. It slammed down onto the floor with a heavy sounding thwack.
He reached for it again but slipped, crashing down to the wet floor as he scrambled to grab the slick plastic. He quickly flipped the jug upright but the damage was already done. The once nearly full container of water had a little less than a quarter left inside. He stood up slowly and backed away, his boots making squishy sounding steps as he surveyed the chaos.
There was water absolutely everywhere.
“Oh crap…” Jackson backed away in nervous disbelief as he inched back to his chair, slumping down as he pointedly ignored the area where the mess he had just made was.
There was no way. He had to be cursed. How?! It was like everything he did went wrong at some point. How did he always somehow manage to do this? To himself no less?
Jackson rubbed his eyes as he glanced over at the spreading pool of water. All he had to do was sit and wait and he couldn't even do that right…
He let out a defeated sigh. This was going to be so fucking awkward to explain to Dr. Eva when she finally got back.
He turned towards the door, pausing as a look of confusion crossed his features. Her name was Eva, right? No, it was... What was it?
Jackson turned back to the spill and blinked, standing up as he glanced around the room.
Why couldn't he remember her name? He just spoke to her only a little bit ago... How long had it even been since then? He couldn't tell…
Jackson wanted to scream. He was so fucking tired of the issues he’s had since the coma. Whatever. He was done waiting in this fucking room. He walked over to the door to leave, yet when he tried to turn the handle, it didn’t budge.
"Why is the door locked?" He mumbled as he bent over, looking at the door, and froze.
The door didn't even have a lock.
Jackson glanced around nervously and took a step back, only to trip over his own feet and collapse to the ground as a sudden wave of dizziness overwhelmed him.
He groaned, trying to push himself up, but his entire body felt like it was being filled with lead. Looking around in confusion, the room around him started to soften as his vision began to swim.
What was happening to him…
He dragged himself over to the table, using a chair as leverage, and shakily got to his feet, barely managing to keep himself upright. He could barely think over the ringing in his ears.
Jackson blinked heavily, shaking his head to clear it as he tried to walk towards the door.
He needed... something?
What...
He stumbled forwards, crashing down hard as the world swirled around him.
…
Is he dying...
“...oh,” he managed to choke out as his vision blurred.
He closed his eyes, feeling the world as it started to dissolve around him.
He was sinking and this time, he...
He didn't fight it.
...
He couldn't…
Not anymore.
...
He was just...
...so...
...
So tired...
...
..
.